


I Have Stepped Through

by End



Series: Azul Waters [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Because he's not as pathetic as people seem to make him out to be, But not Altean Lance??, Canon Compliant, Galaxy Garrison, Gen, He's still from Earth, I love her, M/M, Original Blue Paladin Lance, Polyglot Lance??, Semi-Canon Backstory, This is a complicated AU, shrugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 23:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11218206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/End/pseuds/End
Summary: Lance has always been with Blue. Since the beginning, she has been his, and he hers.He has soared through the stars and sky with her, lived and breathed with her, always.And he will do it again and again, no matter how many times he is needed.





	1. Face First Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> So funny story about this AU- It's based off of ANOTHER AU I had been working on before Season 2 but like, y'all... I gotta have some outsider Lance for the angst- not that there's too much of that in this AU anyway.
> 
> I've got 15,500 some words in this shit so far, so I probably wan't cut this off too early- it may take a while to update, b/c writing in chronological order is for the weak, but I promise it'll happen! I've spent way too much time on this to not give it to you.
> 
> Anyway I told y'all in my last fic that I was writing some long ass Latte shit right?
> 
> Well here's the monstrosity itself. Have fun with that.

 

He’s flying, the machinery humming under his palms and the switches moving with satisfying clicks under long, tanned fingers. Above him, the sky is blue and clear, the wind rattling the metal panels outside. Below,  a wide expanse of green, trees and buildings miniscule from his vantage point in the sky. 

 

Here, he is free to be himself, without prying eyes and the voices of the skeptical. He loves this feeling, loves the sounds and the sensation. He loves this weightlessness, like the world lets him go for a moment, lets him be more than he is normally allowed to be. 

 

Lance loves the sky, nearly as much as he loves the sea. And more than that, he loves the stars. These three things drive him, make him real. These three things free him from limitation, and for that he loves them.

 

And then the moment ends. The comms in the plane spark back to life, and his instructor is directing him to the narrow landing strip. The wind resists him, the plane shaking slightly as he slowly lowers it to the ground. The front wheels touch the ground, and then the back, and then he’s slowing down. The trees pass by more slowly now, but he ignores the view to focus on his landing.

 

Blue light floods his vision, and he shouts out in alarm. He slows down as much as he can, but it’s not enough. He crashes into the mass of blue light, his instructor’s panicked voice loud through the radio. Closing his eyes, he grips the steering wheel tightly for dear life.

 

“Lance!” 

 

He and the plane disappear in a flash of blue light, leaving his amazed and terrified instructor to panic in his wake.

 

-

 

The radio goes quiet and the plane slows to a stop. He opens his eyes slowly, petrified with fear, and sees-

 

A sky of sparkling blue, rings of silver cutting through the wide expanse. In front of him is a huge castle, white and black and silver. 

 

He unbuckles his seatbelt and checks meters, opening up monitors to see more of what’s around him. There is a group of people behind him to the right of the plane, chattering excitedly amongst themselves in a language he can’t understand. A few of them are writing rapidly, sliver pens writing foreign symbols on transparent blue tablets. One of them, with bright orange hair and a thick moustache of the same shade, runs off, cheering. 

 

To the left of the plane is another group, dressed in white and silver armor. They move in a line, and a few of them shoot glances at his plane. They don't pause or stop their march, and disappear into the castle. He swipes that screen away.

 

Directly behind the plane is a massive crater, the edges crumbling into it. A meteor roughly half the size of the castle sits in the center of it, glowing faintly with the same blue light he saw earlier. The pulsing matches the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, and he swipes that screen away too, feeling unnerved.

 

The Orange haired person from before reappears, making a wide motion with his hands as if to present the plane to the person behind him. The new person has moonlight white hair and bright, piercing blue eyes that seem to stare at him through the tinted glass of the plane’s windshield. 

 

Lance looks away after a few seconds, looking back at the meters and controls. He shuts down the engines and lets the plane power down, letting the familiar sounds calm him. Then, he straightens his uniform jacket and steps away from the seat, his hand hesitating on the door out of the cockpit. He takes a deep breath, spinning the ring on his right ring finger with his thumb anxiously. Then, he pushes the door open and climbs down the stairs.

 

-

 

The king greets him kindly, and though Lance cannot understand his words, he can see in his body language and tone of voice that he means no harm. Some of his words are vaguely familiar, and he can make out the words “king” and “lion”. The people looks vaguely like elves or something, with the pointed ears and bright eyes, and it gives Lance a little comfort knowing that he can make that connection to home.

 

Hesitantly, Lance speaks, hoping that their languages are similar enough for him to be understood. “Um… Can you guys tell me where I am? I,uh-”

 

The king blinks at him and then rolls his earring (which floats below his ear? Lance doesn't know how it works, but damn if it isn’t cool, and he wants sixty) over once. 

 

“My apologies, I did not realize that you could not understand me. Is this better?” Asks the king and Lance blinks in surprise.

 

“Ah, uh, you didn't have to do that,” says Lance hurriedly. “Our languages sound pretty similar, so I’m pretty sure it’d be easier to learn than, like, Japanese was.”

 

“Japanese?” Asks the king, and he shifts to push some of his snow white hair out of his face. 

 

“Ah, uh, that’s a language? Um… I don’t really know what else to say,” Lance shrugs helplessly “I have no idea where I am, so...”

 

The king’s eyes widen, and then he puts a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t?”

 

Lance shakes his head, confused. “Am I supposed to? This definitely isn't Earth.”

 

“Amazing,” says the king, and then he straightens up again. “This is the planet Altea. I am it’s King, Alfor. And you are?”

 

Lance pauses at that, thinking. “I’m Lance. I’m a pilot,” he says, and he glances back at his plane. 

 

“ _ A pilot! _ ” Says one of the researchers in the language (Altean? Lance has no clue, but that’s what he’s gonna call it in his head). “ _ A pilot! _ ”

 

King Alfor smiles at him. “A pilot, you say? What can you fly?”

 

“Ah, uh, I’m trained in aircraft and training for spacecraft?” He says uncertainly. “I was doing an aircraft test run when I ended up here.”

 

“I see. Come with me,” says Alfor, “I have many questions.”

 

Lance hesitates for a moment. He glances down at the ring on his finger, thinking. Then, he shrugs. “Alright. Lead the way, your Majesty.”

 

-

 

It doesn’t take long for Lance to figure out Altean. He gets a few pointers here and there on conjugations and pronouns, but all in all the speaking and understanding part comes easily. The reading and writing takes him a while, because the alphabet is so different from what he’s used to. But he gets that soon as well, and then he’s left with nothing to do. After asking the King’s head Advisor, Coran, he gets to help around the castle. 

 

Cleaning is better than nothing, and the maids and servants certainly seem to enjoy his company. The cooks let him make some stuff sometimes, though never for the royal family, and he figures out what foods can replace the ones from home. It's not exactly the same, but it's the closest he can get. Apparently tomatoes are a universal constant, though, but like the people of earth a long time ago, the Altean believed they were poisonous. He cooks them into a pasta, once, and Coran nearly dies trying to “save” him. 6 hours (Vargas?) and a long explanation later and Lance and his tomatoes are left alone. 

 

While Lance is adjusting to life in the castle, the researchers are building something out of the glowing meteor.  Sometimes, the metal pluses with that same light, and then Lance, no matter where he is, ends up dropping everything to find it. It’s a blind sort of search, and by the time he gets there, he’s confused and disoriented. King Alfor always assures him that he can see when the creation is finished.

 

-

 

There are 2 giant robotic lions in the castle. Lance swears he can hear them sometimes, a distant rumble of ideas and feelings that don’t belong to him in the back if his mind. There is a new one, louder than the other two but more choppy and incomplete. Lance asks the king about it a few weeks after his arrival. 

 

“Your majesty, why do the Lions do that?” He asks, looking up at the red one in front of them. 

 

“Do what?” Asks Alfor in return. 

 

Lance pauses to think over his words. “It’s like… Like they’re  _ alive _ ,” he says. “Like they know more than we could ever imagine.”

 

Alfor turns away from the Red Lion to look at him, shocked. “You feel it too?” 

 

Lance nods. “There’s a new one. Louder, but more incomplete. She’s choppy, compared to the other two. Is she okay?”

 

Alfor blinks, then smiles. “She, huh? The new Lion is fine, Lance. She is still developing.”

 

“That’s good. I was worried that she was hurt or something,” Lance sighs, turning his ring. “She has the most beautiful voice.”

 

-

 

“Excuse me,  your majesty,” he whispers, half a month after his arrival. He's scrubbing away at the healing pods, Coran helping.  The King turns to look at him from his place in the doorway.  “Could I have some makeup and silicone or something? I get the feeling I’ll need to cover up my… “ he pauses, snorting when he comes up with a word.  “...Rather  _ alien _ appearance.”

 

The king stares at him for a second longer and smiles. “Of course.  That can be arranged.”

 

“Great,  thanks!” He turns to Coran, grinning. “Wanna help? I can teach you how to do some other fancy stuff too!”

 

Coran smiles back. “Sounds intriguing. Count me in!”

 

“May I join as well?” Ask Alfor, the the beginnings of a grin on his face.

 

“Of course! It’ll be like a slumber party!”

 

-

 

It takes 2 months after he receives fake ears and makeup for everyone to fully trust him. Then he becomes almost like a babysitter for Alfor’s daugther, Allura. She’s about 10 or 11 earth years old, and reminds him of his little sister Gwen(god, how he misses her). 

 

Alteans are a race of very adaptable people, and despite Lance’s best attempts to stop her, she sneaks a bite of his (rather pathetic attempt at) mozzarella sticks and marinara sauce. At first, he’s terrified that she’ll die or something. Instead, she changes her appearance so that her marks fade and her ears grow rounded. She chews for a few more seconds, then smiles. 

 

“That tastes good, Lance! Why don’t we give some to the others?” She asks, keeping her human appearance. 

 

“No way,” says Lance. “You guys can’t eat tomatoes unless you try to shift into a human. I think they’re too acidic or something. God, you’re lucky you’re still alive! Coran almost died last time he tried to eat this without shifting.”

 

Allura pouts. “Just make them shift, then. It’s not terribly hard. You don’t look very different from us.”

 

Lance shakes his head. “No, Allura. Not everyone is as gifted in shifting as you. Besides,” he says, picking her up and letting her sit on his hip. She laughs. “It wouldn't do to make everyone change themselves so that I’m not the only one eating them. I think that if they really want to, they can, but we shouldn’t force them.”

 

Allura shrugs. “I suppose so,” she says with a sigh. “Lance, do you think that the Galra can eat these to-mae-toes?”

 

Lance shrugs, turning down the hallway towards her room. “I don’t know much about the Galra, Allura, but I don’t think we should take that kind of risk.”

 

“I don’t like the Galra,” says Allura, crossing her arms. “They’re big and furry and purple, and they have big teeth and glowy eyes. It’s creepy.”

 

“You have glowy eyes,” says Lance, tapping the skin under his own. 

 

“But that’s different! They’re different!” She says. Her eyes are wide. 

 

Lance opens the door to her room and sighs. He puts her down, kneeling down to meet her eyes. “Allura,” he says, and his voice is soft but firm. “Just because someone is different doesn't mean they are bad. A difference in appearance doesn’t make anyone less than anyone else.”

 

Allura pauses, argument dying on her tongue. Her mouth opens and shuts a few times, and she blinks at him. Her hands drop to her sides, and she turns away. “You’re right,” she says, eyes downcast. “Of all people, I should know that.”

 

Lance pushes a strand of hair behind his ear, feeling the odd, silicone-like material of the fake tip between his fingers. “Everyone in the universe deserves to be equal, Allura,” He says, determined but sad, “Remember that.”

 

-

 

The third Lion, which is Blue, seems to call to him more, now that she is built. Her voice is soft and melodic, spinning tales of adventure and destiny. She is like the oceans back on Earth, calm but fierce, her emotions like tides in that they will not hold back the storm.

 

He sits with her in the hangar more frequently, just to listen to her. Her voice sounds like the sea, and it reminds him of home.

 

He sits with her, feeling the rumbling of her voice as he leans against her gigantic paw. With closed eyes, he tells her the stories of the constellations he saw back on Earth, tracing their shapes into the air with his hands. He speaks of the mythologies behind naming the planets and moons in his solar system, talks about the oceans at home and flying and the  freedom that comes with it. He tells her about his family, about his older sister and two younger ones, about his twin brother and the new child on the way. He speaks of love, of a boy with a smile that can make the world stop. In turn, she tells her own stories, stories of sisters and a might that can never be stopped. She speaks of something beyond the stars, beyond the fabric of the universe. 

 

And Lance believes her, because he can feel their truths in his very bones.

 

-

 

“So this is the Blue Lion’s Chosen pilot? Your daughter’s babysitter?” someone asks the King one day. He is someone Lance has never seen before, with sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes and a head the reminds him somewhat of a turtle. (Blue laughs in the back of his mind at that.  _ You are amusing, paladin. _ )

 

King Alfor stands his ground. “He was a pilot before he was taking care of Allura.”

 

The man turns to look at Lance, watching him as he picks Allura up and spins her in the air. Their combined laughter is loud and melodic, and he swings her onto his back. 

 

“Can he fly  _ well _ ?” he asks.

 

The King nods. “Of course. We wouldn’t let him near the lion if he couldn’t, Zarkon.”

 

“I see. Well, he will have to do. It is a shame he’s one of yours, though,” Says Zarkon. “We have enough of you lot around the universe.”

 

-

 

He is not the only one who can speak to the lions, though he does seem to be the only one who can hear all of them. 

 

Two more lions come to the hangar, Green and Yellow. Another Altean is chosen as the Green Lion’s paladin- a royal mage named Aeron. The other pilot is from a more secluded planet- she is a warrior princess named Brygid who has just liberated her people from the clutches of an empire hell bent on taking over her solar system. 

 

Zarkon is the Black Lion’s paladin. Lance had always wondered who piloted her, because he had always seen her alone, felt the cool winds of her loneliness in his chest, soothed it into submission with soft words and stories of family and love and loyalty. 

 

Lance was not her paladin,  and she was not his lion, but they respected each other. So when Lance officially meets Zarkon, (well, as much as a blade to the neck as a “test” can be called a meeting,) he is not surprised to see that he has the same power as her winds. 

 

Lance is  _ not  _ a warrior. He’s never fought in a war- hell, technically, he’s just barely an adult, 19 years old. 

 

But Lance  _ can _ fight. He has seen what war can do, and he knows his way with weaponry, more or less. 

 

His father (before he disappeared, that is) took him to a shooting range every Saturday for 6 years straight, and he kept up with that in the Garrison's pre-classes. He had been in the archery club at school for all of high school, the best shot on the team and the medals to prove it. 

 

He can fight dirty-years of living in a shady apartment across the street from a hospital in LA will do that to you- and he knows how to protect others. Sparring with his siblings and taking gymnastics with his older sister has helped him as well. 

 

As a fighter, one could say his strongest point is strategy, but looking like he doesn’t know what he’s doing adds to the effect. He looks like he could get beaten up and robbed in a back alley, no sweat. He looks like easy prey, but he’s not, and he knows it. So when Zarkon has a knife to his throat, Lance does the only thing he knows how to in this situation. 

 

Fight back. 

 

The knife isn’t being pressed into his neck from behind, it’s held in front of him like a sword, and with all the freaky alien technology he’s been seeing, he wouldn’t be surprised if it extended into one. 

 

Lance pulls back his neck and slips out from under the blade just as it extends to peirce thought the empty air where he once was, and then he slinks forward and grasps the guy’s wrist lightly, as though he has no clue what he’s doing. His fingers brush a pressure point and rest over it, waiting.

 

“Whoa there, dude. No need to pull a knife on me,” he says, laughing a little. “We’re all friends, right?”

 

Zarkon tries to swing again, the knife switching hands, but within milliseconds, Lance is pressing against the pressure point, hard, and the knife clatters to the ground. A sharp, keening cry of pain and then Zarkon is snarling, trying to escape Lance’s grip. He lets go, smiling.

 

“Relax, friend. We don’t want anyone getting hurt, do we?” Lance says with a smirk. “Doesn’t seem very fun to me.”

 

“Lance,” King Alfor starts, but he’s interrupted by Zarkon picking up the blade and charging again.

 

Lance ducks under it and grasps his wrist again, not bothering with the pressure point and simply pulling him forward until he can get a good grip on his shirt. Tugging on that, too, he uses the momentum of Zarkon’s movement to flip him over his shoulder, slamming him into the floor with a loud crash.Then, steadying one of his legs, he lifts the other one and slams it into the space between his armor, directly into the man’s clavicle. There's a short, pained whimper, and then the knife skids across the room. Lance puts a foot over the guy’s favored wrist (it’s the left one, surprisingly enough) and presses down lightly, just enough to feel the threat. 

 

“Are you done trying to kill me now?” He asks, still smiling.

 

Zarkon grunts from his place on the floor. 

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lance says, hoping backwards. 

 

Zarkon stands up, brushing off his tunic and glaring slightly. Then, he grins, eyes softening. “I see why my Lion seems to like you so much, now,” he says. “Welcome to the team, Lance.”

 

-

 

Allura hears about the interaction form the palace servants. Rumors have blown it up out of proportion, making it seem like some sort of David and Goliath style battle instead of a brief spar. Normally, Lance would be in no hurry to clear that up, but he has some humility, and from what he can tell, Zarkon seems to be one of those “honor means everything” types. 

 

“Is it true you beat Zarkon with just your pinky finger?” Allura asks him, holding up her own and staring at it with crossed eyes. 

 

“No,” he says with laugh. “It took effort and time. I’m just glad he didn’t try to move until I did, otherwise i would have lost for sure.” He ruffles her hair playfully.

 

Allura scowls, smoothing her hair down best she can. “Lance,” she starts to say, voice high in a whine, but Lance clicks his tongue at her.

 

“No, no. You are a tiny little baby,” he laughs, “you can’t be scowling now, you’ll get wrinkles. Come,” he says, scooping her into his arms. “I wanna do your hair.”

 

“But the maids just did my hair!” 

 

“Yeah, but they just pulled your hair back. Let’s do something fun with it.”

 

Allura pauses at that, looking up at him and spinning a strand of white between her fingers. “... What kind of ‘fun?’” She asks, and Lance grins.

 

“Let’s find out, shall we?”


	2. Spiraling Down and Out of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rise and fall of the first Blue Paladin and his team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter this time, mostly due to a lack of inspiration and also bc these characters are all assholes to flesh out and i regret all of my life choices
> 
> so sorry if they seem a little one dimensional but i havent slept in like,,,,3 days and i'm suffering

Brygid stands in the the Yellow Lion’s hangar, listening to the rumbling of her lion’s voice. 

 

Distantly,  she can remember the same sounds as she led her people to safety in the beginning years of the empire. Moving entire mountains with brute strength to hide her people, her mother holding her little sister tightly to her bosom, the people cowering close behind as the landslides below take down the empire soldiers foolish enough to follow. 

 

The sounds remind her of her home in general.  Like the mighty creatures of Balmera, her planet relies on the balance between nature and people to survive.  The empire began from a group of power hungry advisors under her other mother, who was sadly killed in the war following the beginning of the regime. They had been blinded by the power provided by the rocky planet, monopolizing the water supply to control the people. 

 

The mountains rose and fell under her hands in the next few years, working in tandem with the planet to protect and provide for the people, until the war was won. She fought alone at first, then with a small group that could barely be called a military, but they came up victorious.

 

She can still hear it, the sound of the pebbles as they crunched beneath her feet, of the boulders as they crashed into the empire’s forces. The rumble as the mountains rose beneath her palms to protect her miniscule forces. 

 

The sound of the rushing wind, the crash of the meteor as it broke through the atmosphere and fell onto the surface of her beloved planet. The distant crooning, the pulsing light that called to her in the night. 

 

Her lion. 

 

-

 

Lance climbs out from his place in the crook of Blue’s neck, singing faintly under his breath. 

 

_ “Greetings from space,  I am lost without a trace,”  _ he sings, thinking of his lover back at home, of smiles and laughter as they sat on the roof, staring up at stars and wishing for a good future.  _ “It feels nice to get away from all the pain, the world has gone insane.” _

 

Blue makes a faint noise to the beat of the song, a sort of bell like noise, like wind chimes and water. Lance pats at the metal of her neck and continues, climbing up onto her head and leaning against her ear, facing outwards toward the window at the stars. 

 

_ “So tell my guitar I won't be coming home tonight,”  _ he thinks of hazel eyes and freckled skin, a smile like the sun, and he tucks his knees up to his chest and sighs.  _ “So I try to say I’m sorry, and I try to do no harm.” _

 

_ “And I lied when I said I was happy,” _ he lowers his head, trying to push away the memories of home. His fingers dance around a small blue pendant the size of his thumb, a small piece of the meteor Blue was sculpted from.  _ “If you love me, please, let me go.” _

 

Still, all he can think of is home- of the beach and his family, of his friends at the Garrison and Hunk and his lover.  Again, he rolls his pendant over in his palm, and it glows faintly, copying his memories over. The surface begins to clear, smoothing over in places like crystal,  and Lance presses his lips against the glassy surface of one side for a split second before continuing. 

 

_ “I don’t need anything,”  _ he sings, and his voice wavers for a moment,  _ “Here we could stay, It feels nice to get away from all the pain, the world has gone insane.” _

 

_ “So tell my guitar I won’t be,” _ a quick gasp of breath through tears,  _ “Coming home tonight. Feels kind of hopeless when there’s no one else around.”  _ He can’t finish. His heart aches, and he rapes himself more fully across the expanse of Blue’s forehead to wallow in a rare moment of self pity.

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

-

 

“Oh, Come on, Aeron! Just tell him! He’ll find out eventually with all those bonding exercises we do!” Says Brygid, slinging a hand across her shoulders. “Wouldn’t you rather tell him yourself?”

 

“Easy for you to say,” Aeron replies, pouting. 

 

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Brygid asks playfully, “At least give it a try, Aeron. In the end, we’ll all still be friends.”

 

The door to the training room opens and Lance steps out with Zarkon. They’re talking, Zarkon making wide motions with his hands as Lance nods along, adding points as they go. Brygid grins and waves wildly. 

 

“Lance!” She shouts, and Zarkon steps out of the way as she barrels into him. “Hey there, beautiful,” She winks, grinning slightly as she fiddles with the empty, pale blue pendant around his neck. He leans back a bit but doesn’t bother to push her away. “Have you seen Alfor around? Aeron-”

 

“Okay, that’s enough! Sorry to bother you, Lance.” Says Aeron, pulling Brygid off of him. Zarkon laughs.

 

“Planning a confession again, Brygid? The gods know Aeron needs it,” He says, and Brygid grins.

 

“Absolutely.” Says Brygid. “Do you know where he is?”

 

“I think he went to that Unilu market with Coran,” says Lance. “We need to fix the teludav, after all, and Alfor offered to take him.”

 

Aeron wilts a little at that, and Brygid groans. “Isn’t it a little weird for him to be so close to his advisor all the time?” She asks.

 

Lance shrugs. “Advisor Smythe never had a problem with it, so…” He pats Aeron’s shoulder. “He’ll come around eventually, I’m sure. I mean, even if he doesn’t like you back, we can all still be friends.”

 

Aeron sighs. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

Zarkon puts a hand on her head and smiles. “Relax, Aeron. I’m sure everything will turn out fine in the end.”

 

-

 

Aeron stretches her hands out and feels the quintessence rush to her fingertips. The color flickers, mostly bright and green but darkening to a blackened color at the edges, crackling dangerously.

 

“What the hell is that?” She asks the empty air. No one answers, and she pulls the quintessence back. She doesn’t feel anything different, so she shrugs and walks it off.

 

It doesn’t go away.

 

-

 

Zarkon stumbles into the black lion’s cockpit, the maroon of his blood smearing across the white walls. He grits his teeth, steadying himself on the back of his chair, sliding into the seat with a hiss of pain. He rests his hands on the controls for a moment, feeling his lion’s energy meld with his.

 

“Let’s go!” He says, jerking the controls forward. “Aeron, Alfor, shield us while Lance sets up the wormhole!”

 

“On it!”

 

Energy runs through his veins, drowning out pain. The Lion’s voice grows louder in his head, guiding his hands, his heart. She is warm and gentle, but firm, strong. She rests her hands on his and directs his body, leads him like he leads his team. There is an unwavering loyalty in her eyes as she stares into his own, smiling.

 

He jerks his hands away from hers with a hiss. The power she gives him floods his veins, his heart, his mind.  _ No one controls me, _ He thinks angrily,  _ Not even you. _

 

Her eyes are wide, and she reaches for him again, a gentle, soothing voice in his head.  _ You are blessed, Paladin _ , She tells him, taking his hands again.  _ You have been given the power of the skies, the freedom of the winds and the life of the air. Death shall not lay it’s hands on you for as long as you will have me. _

 

Zarkon grins, almost wickedly, and accepts. That is the day his eyes begin to take on a purple hue, drowning out the calm gold they once were.  _ You are mine. _

 

Outside, a turbulent wind blows.

 

-

Lance stands in the barren hangar, staring up at his old Garrison issue plane. The metal is old and worn under his hands, and silvery dust has gathered on top of it. He climbs into the cabin, deciding to run a maintenance check on the thing, for old times sake. The last time he had touched the one state of the art plane had been nearly 7 years, and he knows that Matt and Hunk would be pissed if they found out he hadn’t been taking care of it.

 

He sighs. “I should have done this sooner,” He says into the empty air. “There’s so much cleaning I have to do before I can even start.”

 

With a another long sigh, he pulls the dust cloth from his belt and gets to work. He’s so engrossed in the action that he doesn’t notice when his pendant snags on a switch and rolls under the control panel.

 

By the time he’s finally finished, he’s so tired he doesn’t even think about it when he leaves.

 

In the morning, he’ll worry and search, but in the moment he simply drops onto his bed and falls asleep.

 

-

 

Lance slams into the Yellow Lion’s side, shoving her out of the way as electricity crackles through the air. It hits the Blue Lion with a boom, the force knocking him out of his chair. His hand catches on the jagged edge of a loose crystal, and he wipes it on the fabric of his pilot’s seat as he leans down to realign it. He sits back down, ignoring the sting of his blood dripping down his wrist and onto the controls. 

 

“Sorry, Blue.”

 

His helmet is alive with static, with the occasional shout of his name cutting through it. He knocks on the side of it, once, and the static dies down. 

 

“I’m here.” He says into his comm.

 

“Lance! Are you alright?” Asks Brygid, popping up on a side screen and he urges Blue up. 

 

“I’m fine.” He says, wiping the blood off again. “Are you?”

 

“Yes, thanks to you,” She says, cheeks flushing a light green under pale blue skin. “But still-” She pouts, voice turning stern, “You can’t just do that! What if you had gotten hurt?”

 

He looks down at his hand and shrugs. “I trust you guys to make sure I don’t, then.”

 

“Aw, thanks Lance!” Says Alfor, popping up beside Brygid. “I trust you too!”

 

“I don’t think that was the point, Alfor,” says Aeron, grinning playfully, “You good to go, Lance?”

 

“Yeah,” Lance says, shifting his torn glove over the cut.

 

Zarkon pops up next. “Great. Let’s move.”

 

-

 

Blue speaks to him in his sleep that night, Her voice confident and gentle at the same time, a comforting lilt as she takes his hands and smiles at him. Her eyes sparkle with excitement and she bounces on her heels, the flowy fabric of her skirt twirling as she does. 

 

_ We’re bonded, Paladin!  _ She tells him excitedly, lacing their fingers together.  _ You have been blessed with the gifts of the Seas! The freedom of the ocean, the strength of the waves!  _ Her smile is bright, guiding him through the slow steps of a smooth dance.  _ You shall not die for as long as you and I are together. You are the ocean, ever changing, but at the base of it all…  _ She lets go of his hands to push away a deep blue curtain, showing him Altea, with its vast oceans and shimmering rings.  _ You will always be you. _

 

Lance stares, taking slow steps forward. He cups his hands around the little planet, feeling his energy and Blue’s mixing to create a peaceful resonance of water. There is water at his bare feet, a gentle flow of back and forth. Blue stands beside him, looking over the vast ocean before them.

 

_ Will you accept me, Lance?  _ She asks, he voice more subdued. Her shoulders drop, just a little, and Lance places a comforting hand on her back.

 

“Of course,” He says, smiling. She perks up. “I would do anything if it meant protecting my friends.”

 

-

 

Lance stands at the edge of the railing, looking over the blue oceans of Altea. It isn’t the same as Veradero Beach, but no beach ever is, and just being able to see an ocean helps with his homesickness. Even after nearly ten years of fighting with his fellow paladins, he can’t help but long for home, for his family back on Earth.

 

He wonders if his mother has had the baby yet. When he was 19... When he disappeared, she was 8 months in. What did they name the kid? Do they talk about him? What did the Garrison say about his disappearance? What did they tell the other cadets? 

 

A twig snaps from behind him, and he turns around. Zarkon stands there amongst the black trunks of silver leaved trees, nearly invisible with his Black Paladin armor on. Lance grins and waves.

 

“Hey, Leader. What brings you here?” He asks. His fingers tighten against the rail as he leans against it. Blue growls in the back of his mind, seething with a fury that he can’t understand.

 

_ Be careful, Paladin,  _ she tells him. _ Something is amiss. _

 

Zarkon tilts his head and smiles softly. His eyes glow with a bonded purple. “Lance,” he starts, and his voice is low and stern. “I heard a rumor that you have formed a ‘true bond’ with your lion.”

 

Lance’s eyes widen and he bows his head sheepishly.  He shifts his grip on the railing, raising his feet so he can balance his weight on his heels. “Ah,” he says. “Yes, that was an accident.”

 

Zarkon sighs and shakes his head, walking up to stand beside him. “How…” He pauses, thinking. “ _ Unfortunate. _ ”

 

Lance blinks. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well,” says Zarkon, pulling his bayard from his armor, “It means I’ll have to get rid of my most trusted Paladin. A true shame, really.”

 

The bayard extends to its sword form, the flash of light suddenly much more intimidating than usual. Lance glances back at the forest, then back at the blade. He pushes his feet back onto the ground and loosens his grip on the railing, his fight or flight instincts screaming at him to flee, but Zarkon grabs the back of his armor before he can move. The sword presses against his back.

 

His bayard is in his hands before he can think and he swipes at Zarkon with the bladed upper limb of his bow. It catches at the man’s hairline and tears down his face, just under his lip, marron blood trickling down at an absurdly slow rate. He lets go of Lance’s armor.

 

The glow of Zarkon’s eyes grows brighter and more menacing, and though Lance is free, he finds that he can’t move from his spot on the floor. He reaches for an arrow, but Zarkon’s sword is arching through the air before he reaches them, knocking the bow from his hands. With a flash of blue light, it returns to it’s bayard form and skitters across the floor, disappearing into the menacing blackness of the forest. 

 

The wind blows strongly, silver leaves dancing in the air as  the sword swipes again, and Lance reaches for the dagger at his hip. He blocks the sword best he can and carefully steps backwards. He doesn't look back out of fear,  the ocean growing louder in his ears.

 

Blue is murmuring in his mind, a language he doesn’t understand. Her voice rumbles, and he can feel her magic working through him as he blocks more blows and steps even further back. The metal railing presses against his back.

 

“Zarkon, what are you doing?” Lance says though a grimace. The pressure against his little dagger grows heavier still.

 

“Getting rid of possible obstacles,” says Zarkon. “I can’t have a bonded Paladin try to stop me.”

 

The dagger flies from his hands, and the sword lowers. Zarkon backs away.

 

“I can’t make it look like I killed you, can I?” Says Zarkon. “That would make me look bad to the team, and I still need them.”

 

The tip of the blade presses against his stomach, and he leans back as far as he can to avoid it. 

 

_ Jump, Paladin!  _ Blue screams in his head. Without thinking, he does, kicking the blade away with his knee and tossing himself over the rail. There is a growl, and the sword swipes forward, tearing a long gash along his side. With a hiss of pain, he falls from the cliff towards the water. 

 

“Blue!” He shouts desperately, staring up at the sky in a silent prayer. 

 

_ Relax, Cub,  _ says Blue, even as her mind brushes an anxious energy against his own.  _ I will not let you die. _

 

There is a flash of Blue Light, identical to the color that brought him here. The color still burns into the back of his eyelids, even after ten years, and he gasps. 

 

Shutting his eyes tightly, he lets the light take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i just really love greetings from space- amanda jenssen,,, listen to her i love her voice
> 
> also originally Brygid was red but like,,, the show hinted at Alfor being red and i just,,,,,  
> and laid back alfor is my main shit  
> Brygid also comes from a very affectionate race bc like,,,, theyre sort of reptilian so like,,, body heat or something idk but like,,,, dont hate her????  
> yeah anyway im just gonna pretend this was coherent okay okay


	3. The Snap of the Branch Underfoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall of Voltron and Altea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another short chapter  
> this one's got another probably paperthin oc but like,,, he dies in the end so it's okay,,, maybe?????  
> I dunno he might be more developed?????  
> Who knows but like,,,, this is a thing  
> lots a' betrayal and shit  
> in fact thats pretty much it  
> people betrayin' each other  
> fun

“Alfor!” Shouts Zarkon, clutching tightly at the Blue Bayard. “Alfor, I… I…”

 

Alfor stares with wide eyes, taking hold of his shoulder. “What happened?” He asks urgently.

 

Zarkon looks up from the bayard and shakes his head. 

 

“Lance,” he gasps out. “He- He was there, at the cliff, and then- his bayard was in the forest. I saw a flash of light, and when I went to check on him, he was gone.”

 

He trembles under Alfor’s hands, voice quivering. Alfor takes him into his arms, humming quietly and trying not to cry himself.

 

“You didn’t see it,” Zarkon whispered. “His blood was a sickly shade of red like I’ve never seen before.”

 

Alfor clutches more tightly at the edges of his armor, shushing him softly. “I know,” he says softly. 

 

Zarkon balls his hands into fists around the fabric of Alfor’s cloak, tearing it in long strips. “Why? How could this happen?”

 

Alfor shakes his head. “Let us begin the investigation, then.”

 

-

 

“Father!” Allura exclaims, running up to his side. She opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it, looking around. “Where is Lance? He told me he would return with you.”

 

Alfor looks away from her smiling face. “He’s gone, Allura,” he says sadly. 

 

“What are you talking about? He was just here the other day,” replies Allura, brushing it aside. “He promised he would come back, and he never breaks a promise.”

 

“No, Allura. He’s  _ gone, _ ” Says Alfor, straining the word. “There was nothing we could do.”

 

Allura pauses, soaking the words in. She takes a sharp breath. “ _ No.  _ No, he can’t be. He- he was a bonded paladin, wasn’t he? He can't possibly be dead.”

 

Alfor shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Allura,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder.

 

“No!” She shouts, flinching out of his grip. She stares down at her hands, at the chipping, pale blue polish on her nails. She looks down at the royal blue of her dress, the gold and white of her corset blending together and suddenly she can’t breathe. “No, no, it isn’t possible!”

 

She sinks to the ground, not caring that her skirts are getting dirty, nor that the dirt under the grass is getting under her nails.

 

Alfor kneels down with her, not touching her. He murmurs soft apologies, supporting her best he can as she breaks down. “I’m so sorry, Allura.”

 

“You don’t understand!” She says, digging her fingers further into the ground. “He was like a  _ brother _ to me.”

 

“Allura, I-”

 

“No,” she says, voice quivering. “He may have been a paladin, but even to you he was more like a son.”

 

Alfor bows his head. “You are right,” he says, sadly. “Come. We shall prepare a ceremony for him.”

 

Allura looks up, slowly. 

 

“Hopefully, we find what has been lost.”

 

-

 

It takes them four human months to find a replacement Paladin. His name is Llyn, and he is Galra. He is an adequate pilot, easy going and confident like the lion he pilots, but he is not Lance. The relationships between the paladins are strained without him, and as hard as Llyn tries, he cannot mend it- he does not know the other paladins like Lance did.

 

Llyn struggles to support this team, and his own mental state begins to deteriorate, an anxiety creeping into his head, a fear of rejection seeping into his bones. Princess Allura does not help- after Lance’s supposed death, she has taken to ignoring all of the paladins aside from her own father, and she has taken to despising Llyn.

 

Roughly a year after Lance’s death, Llyn is has begun making daily rounds around the castle, checking on each of the paladins. 

 

“Aeron,” he hears Zarkon’s voice, a deep and menacing tone. “Hurry up and forge your bond. There is much work to be done before the fall of Altea, and I cannot keep giving you a portion of my bond forever.”

 

“But of course, my Lord,” replies Aeron. “I am almost there.”

 

After hearing that, Llyn takes a scouting mission out to his old planet. While he was there, he visits a group of old friends, telling them to keep an eye on the empire's movements while he was gone.

 

In the end, he was too late, but in his wake rose a rebellion- named after the second Blue Paladin, Llyn Marmora, The Blade of Marmora rose from the ashes of the destroyed Galra homeland.

 

-

 

On the final day of that precarious peace, The Green Lion rejected her Paladin of nearly 11 years. It was the beginning of the end.

 

_ You are not worthy of my gifts,  _ The Green Lion growls, shifting.  _ Nor of my Bond. You have grown weak, Aeron Haggar. You do not deserve to be my Paladin. _

 

The world moves beneath Aeron’s feet, and then she’s falling. She collides painfully with the floor, navy blue blood spilling from the split skin of her palm. When she opens her eyes, the lion is gone.

 

-

 

Llyn finds the King before Zarkon does.

 

“King Alfor!” He shouts, the door slamming shut behind him. His breath comes in long pants, chopping his sentences. “We must hurry! Zarkon’s forces are approaching quickly!”

 

Alfor turns to look at him, tears streaking down his face. Two cryopods slowly sink into the ground, and a blue crystal pulses beneath his hand. When he pulls away, that disappears as well. A screen closes.

 

“You are right,” He says, voice choked. He rubs at his face. “How are the lions?”

 

“The only one left is the Black Lion, as you requested, sir,” Replies Llyn, reaching for his defense station.

 

“No,” Alfor says, stopping him. “We do not have the luxury to fight back like this. We must help the evacuation team.”

 

The door opens before they can move, and Zarkon strides in, grinning.

 

“King Alfor,” he says, smug. “And the little traitor, Llyn. What an honor it is to meet you here.”

 

“Zarkon,” growls Llyn, stepping between the two kings. Zarkon laughs.

 

“Oh my,” he chuckles. “Aren’t your loyalties misplaced? You should be with me. With your people.”

 

“You do not represent my people,” Llyn snaps back. “You’re nothing but a corrupt tyrant, blinded by power.”

 

Zarkon’s face morphs, anger tearing away the poisoned honey mask. “Is that so?” He growls, stepping forward. His bayard grows. 

 

Llyn doesn’t flinch, standing his ground. “Your majesty, I suggest you leave before-”

 

The blade swings through the air, slicing cleanly through his exposed neck. Alfor gasps, taking a hurried step forward to catch the body as it falls.

 

“You should have listened to him while you had the chance,” Zarkon laughs darkly. “Now it’s too late for you. Goodbye, Alfor.”

 

Alfor looks up, determination lighting up his eyes. “You’ll never succeed.” He says. The blade archs through the air, and his world goes black.

 

-

 

It only gets worse from then on. While escaping the empty hangar, Aeron runs into Brygid, who, like all the others in the castle, has heard now of Zarkon’s betrayal. She had been rushing to her own hangar to gather her armor and fight.

 

“Come, Aeron! We must fight for Altea!” She says, determined. Aeron is almost moved- her best friend was willing to lay her life on the line for a planet that she owed nothing to.

 

But Aeron has gone too far for this. She has broken bonds and trust, betrayed the people she once considered family. It is too late for her to go back.

 

So Aeron agrees, trailing her all the way to the airlock, where she casts a spell that projects a voice into the space. Brygid, brave and strong, dependable Brygid, takes the bait and get caught.

 

“Aeron?” Her voice edges on hysterical, realization hitting. She grasps tightly to the edges of Aeron’s robes. She understands, now, and she will not go down without a fight. “Aeron!”

 

Aeron pulls away, but Brygid’s grip is too tight. The struggle goes on for another 10 minutes, even as ice crawls up Brygid’s sides, slowly freezing her to death, even as Aeron rapidly recites spells to burn and hurt her best friend, they struggle. Even as Brygid’s own green blood mixes with the blue from Aeron’s palm, she struggles, even as pressure crushes her, even as the void of space pulls, she fights. Until her very last breath, she fights.

 

As the final breath escapes her lips, she smiles. “You’ll never get the lions,” She says in those final moments, a smugness in the shine of her eyes, and then she’s gone.

 

The airlock shuts quickly after that, and Aeron is left, shellshocked, in her wake.

 

-

 

The moment Zarkon tries to pilot the castle, the entire system goes into lockdown. After that, every touch to the castle’s controls resulted in a painful shock of energy. Not even the surviving servants and pilots could approach the controls without the shocks ripping through them.

 

He gives up on it for the time being, knowing that he would need the rest of the lions to get to the Black Lion. He can still hear her, a distant howl of wind as she begs him to return to her, to stop this and go back to the way things were before.

 

It’s too late to turn back now, he knows, and he knows that she is tugging at the smallest part of his mind, the part that regrets killing Lance and Alfor and Llyn. Instead, he turns to the only person he has left.

 

“Is it done?” He asks, stepping out of the altean escape pod and back onto his own ship.

 

Aeron- now taking up her family name, Haggar- looks up at him and smiles. “It is. I’m afraid I hadn’t any luck with my lion, but no matter. No one will find her in time to stop us.”

 

“I see,” He nods. “Then let us begin.”

 

“Of course, My Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so llyn huh  
> funny story in the original AU Llyn and Lance were the same person and Alfor was like,,, his brother,,, and Allura was a tiny baby for most of it,,,,  
> but i mean,,,, this llyn is good too


	4. A Bright and Happy Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return to Earth and a long lost lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here comes my main shit  
> The Latte has arrived ((honestly i don't even like coffee))  
> also i hope y'all know that i didnt actually plan on making this latte until i had already written it??? like, this was gonna be really really gen,,, like,,, no ships,,, but like,,,,,,,,  
> shrugs  
> anyway here take it

Lance opens his eyes and sees-

 

A white ceiling, the soft glow of little plastic stars stuck to it. He hasn’t seen anything like it in ten years, so he blinks rapidly. The ceiling remains.

 

Memories flood his brain, and he sits up to look around in confusion. Under his hands is a dark blue comforter, and taped to the wall next to him is a poster of various constellations. He moves the blanket off his legs and throws them off the side of the bed, feeling the cool wood flooring under his toes. His legs- mostly bare other than a pair of shorts that he sleeps in- are blemish free,  the scars from his time as a paladin gone. He blinks rapidly a few times, reaching for the wound that  _ should  _ tear from his shoulder blade to the lower, front area of his hip, but there is nothing. Hesitantly, he reaches up to touch his ears and feels the round edges for the first time in years. 

 

“What in the world…?” He whispers into the empty air. “ _ Blue?” _

 

_ I am here, paladin. I am with you. _

 

_ “What happened?” _

 

_ I had to send you back. The war-  _ she pauses, and Lance takes a moment to realize her voice sounds just as close as it always does-  _ it was the only way. _

 

Memories of the Garrison- ones that had faded years ago- come back full force, and he thinks about his instructor, panicking over the radio as he disappeared into the light. He turns to look at the calendar pinned to the wall above his nightstand.

 

It was only yesterday that he and the plane disappeared, apparently. He stands up and picks up the water bottle on the night stand, unscrewing the lid and resting the plastic against his lips.

 

_ It’s only been a day. _

 

-

 

He finds his instructor gesturing widely at Commander Holt, face twisted in a panicked hysteria. 

 

“Good morning, Commander,” says Lance, saluting to the two men. 

 

“At ease, cadet,” says Commander Holt with a soft smile. He elbows Lance’s instructor and whispers under his breath. “I told you he was fine.”

 

His instructor sputters, staring at him with wide eyes. “You- you disappeared! I saw you!”

 

“Yes, sir,” says Lance, nodding. “I was actually here to find out what happened to the plane.”

 

“It’s safe and sound in the hangar as always,” says Commander Holt. “Matt is in there checking it out. You can go see, if you’d like.”

 

Lance bows his head and smiles. “Yes, sir.” He says, and then he turns down the hall and walks away.

 

His instructor gapes after him. Commander Holt laughs. “Relax. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.”

 

-

 

“Matt? Are you in here?” Lance asks, opening the hatch to poke his head into the plane.

 

“Yeah, I’m under the control panel,” Matt answers, voice muffled. “Can you pass me the flashlight?”

 

Lance steps into the plane and picks up the pen light, twirling it between his fingers before placing it in Matt’s waiting hands. “See anything?” Asks Lance, half hoping something from Altea is there, if only to prove it wasn’t a dream.

 

“There’s a crystal in here,” says Matt, visibly struggling to pull it out. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

 

He spends a few more seconds tugging, then pulls it out, sliding out from his place under the panel to smile up at him. Lance grins.

 

“Ah,” he says, taking the crystal and holding it gingerly between his palms. It’s soft light pulsates under his hands, matching the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. “I was wondering where this went.” he tucks it into his pocket, and extends a hand to Matt, who takes it and stands. He brushes silvery dust off of his uniform, blowing light brown hair out of his eyes. 

“Glad to see you’re safe, cadet,” Matt laughs. “I was worried when your instructor came back alone.”

 

“Aw, you were worried about little ol’ me?” Lance asks, grinning. He swings an arm across Matt’s shoulders.“I’m honored.”

 

“Oh, lay off, you big nerd,” says Matt, pushing his arm off. “Can’t I be worried about you without this kind of drama?”

 

“Never,” says Lance, grasping his jaw lightly. “You love me.”

 

Matt rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

 

Lance brushes his thumbs across his cheeks, rubbing off the silver dust under his glasses. “You know you do, Matt,” he says, softly. A piece of conditioned formality slips into his words, making them all the more romantic. “Just as I, you.”

 

Matt looks up at him, a faint blush across his cheeks. “Is something going on, Lance?” He asks, voice shaking slightly. “You’re not normally this… Um…”

 

Lance blinks, and the tension breaks. The formality falls away, leaving him flustered. “Ah, sorry, I just, uh,” he flushes, backing away. “I missed you, okay? God, I feel like a kid.”

 

Matt laughs and kisses his cheek lightly. “Aw, no, it’s cute!”

 

Lance buries his face into his hands, blushing furiously even as Matt presses soft kisses onto his face.“I don’t deserve this, I’ve never done anything to deserve this,” he mumbles. “Why are you doing this? You're too good for me.”

 

Matt pats his head. “Come on, let’s go. It’s almost time for breakfast.”

 

-

 

Hunk waves at him excitedly from across the mess hall, holding two plates with one arm and motioning to a pair of seats. Lance grins and rushes over to him as quickly as he can.

 

Matt is already on the hall, having split up with him when they left the plane. Relationships are not banned from the Garrison, but highly discouraged, and aside from that, if the rest of the students found out about their relationship- the fact that Lance is ‘close’ with a commander’s son- people would definitely accuse him of cheating to raise his rank. So secrecy it is, for them.

 

This doesn’t stop him from dragging a gentle hand along his shoulders and he passes by, nor does it stop him from winking over his shoulder as Matt turns to look at him. The smile he gets in return is blinding, and yeah, this has definitely been something he’d missed on Altea. Brygid was nice, but if Lance is anything, it is loyal. No matter how afraid he was of never returning home, he stayed that way. 

 

But that doesn’t matter anymore- he isn’t on Altea, he’s home, living his life the way he’s supposed to. That is what is important now. If there is a war on the horizon, he will wait until he is needed, until he can actually do something with his own strength. It is what he has always done, as a person and as a Paladin.

 

He reaches Hunk and sits down, graciously taking the second plate from his friend’s hands. “Has anyone ever told you that you're a blessing to this Earth?” Asks Lance, smiling. “Because you are.”

 

“Not nearly enough,” replies Hunk. “Not nearly.”

 

-

 

It rains, a week after his return.

 

It’s real rain, not the boiling hot shards of something on Altea or the diamond drops of Mnyra. True, honest rain falling heavily and streaking water droplets onto glass panes, dyeing the skies gray. 

 

He cracks open his dorm window and sneaks out into the night, feeling the rain against his skin and grinning.

 

“Lance!” Hunk hisses, leaning as far as he came out the window while still remaining under the cover. “What are you doing?”

 

Lance only laughs in response. “It’s raining, Hunk!” He says, spreading his arms. His eyes close, and he tilts his head back, smiling gently. 

 

“Get back inside, Lance! You’ll get sick!” Hunk whispers, reaching out a little, but Lance steps out of reach. “Lance!”

 

But the look on his face is one of reverence. He looks far more mature than Hunk remembers, and as the lighting lights up the night, he swears he can see someone much older in Lance’s place, scarred and sharpened by  _ something _ . The shadows of his face seem deeper, sharper, in those few seconds, and Hunk thinks he can almost see blood staining his side. He stumbles back, horrified. 

 

The thunder cracks loudly, but Lance does not move. Hunk makes his way back to the window, shaken by the illusion of his war-torn best friend, but the image has faded, leaving only the young and innocent Lance in it’s wake.

 

More lightning strikes, and the illusion returns. Lance turns his head towards him, opening his eyes ever so slightly and smiling softly up at him.

 

Again, the thunder comes, more quickly this time, and whatever words some from his lips are drowned out by the crash.

 

“Come back inside, Lance,” Hunk says, more softly now. 

 

Lance nods. “Yeah,” he breathes, climbing back in. “Sorry for troubling you, big guy.”

 

The window closes, and whatever that image was is washed away with the rain. The look of wisdom beyond his age fades away, and Hunk almost wonders if the image was only a trick of his mind.

 

He never sees the Lance of that night ever again, on Earth.

 

-

 

The next year, the Kerberos Mission is announced. Matt and his best friend Shiro are chosen for it, and Commander Holt is to lead the expedition.  

 

“Oh my god, Matt,” says Lance excitedly, his hands wrapped loosely around Matt’s waist. “I can't believe it. You’re famous.”

 

“I’m not famous, Lance,” laughs Matt, pushing lightly at his jaw. “It’s the mission that’s famous.”

 

“Isn’t it the same thing? I can buy posters with your face on them and plaster them all over my walls-” Lance starts, and Matt headbutts his cheek lightly with his forehead.

 

“I’d think you’d want Shiro posters,” he teases. “I thought he was ‘your hero’ or something.”

 

“He’s nothing compared to you,” says Lance seriously, slouching slightly to rest his chin on Matt’s shoulder. “I’d choose your pretty face over his any day.”

 

“I-” Matt flushes, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Oh my god, you can’t just say things like that without warning me!”

 

“You’re beautiful, babe,” says Lance, grinning. He turns his head to peck Matt’s cheek. “Gorgeous. The most spectacular being in the universe.”

 

“Stop, oh my god,” Matt whines, pushing his face away.

 

“Never,” Lance replies, smiling more. “Every time you laugh I feel the world stop to stare. Your smile makes me feel like a man staring at the sun. You’re absolutely amazing,” he whispers, punctuating it with a soft kiss against his nose.

 

Matt turns so that they’re facing each other and gently reaches up to cup his cheeks. He presses their foreheads together, staring into his blue eyes seriously. “You are too, you know?” He says,  dropping his gaze to his lips.“I’m glad we met.”

 

“I am too, Matt,” says Lance, thinking of ten years of loyalty. “I am too.”

 

-

 

He doesn't end up seeing the launch in person. Mrs.Holt ( _ Colleen _ , she tells him, but it doesn’t feel like the right thing to say) offers to take him as a guest, but he declines. He isn’t supposed to be special to the Holt family, after all.

 

Katie- Matt’s little sister- glares at him as he does this. She’s three years younger than Matt, two younger than himself, and god, she looks so similar to her brother.  Sure, her face is rounder and her eyes sharper, but they could be twins. Lance doesn’t think she’s ever liked him, though. They never talked much- Garrison testing hardly lets him visit his own family, let alone the Holts, no matter how close they live in comparison. 

 

Matt tries not to be disappointed. Both of them know that showing up may end up being bad for both of them in the long run. 

 

They meet in Lance’s dorm room the night before the launch, when curfew is waived for celebrations and goodbye parties. Commander Holt covers for them, and they slip away, hand in hand.

 

“I’ll miss you, you know,” says Lance, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The hallways are empty. “Always.”

 

Matt steps in and wrings his hands. “I won’t ask you to wait for me, Lance,” he says, softly. Lance freezes, the door half closed.

 

“Matt, what-”

 

“I mean, I’ll  be gone for who knows how long? And anything can happen out there. I don’t want you to have to hold yourself back if you find someone better- god knows you _ deserve  _ better-”

 

Lance shuts the door, making sure not to lock it so Matt doesn’t feel pressured. “Matt,” he breathes, stepping forward slowly. “Everything will be fine. You’ll come back, safe and sound, yeah? Nothing has to change.”

 

Matt wraps his arms around himself and sits down on the bed. The dark blue comforter shifts to accommodate him, and the little blue Crystal pulsates softly from his nightstand, matching Lance’s heartbeat. 

 

“We don’t know that, Lance. I can’t promise you I’ll come home.”

 

“I will always wait for you, Matt. Even when you yourself have lost hope.” He kneels in front of Matt, placing a hand on his knee. “Always.”

 

Matt wraps his hands around his shoulders and sobs softly. “I’m scared, Lance,” he whispers. “I have this terrible feeling that something will go wrong.”

 

Lance cups his face gently. “I understand,” he whispers back. He reaches for the crystal and holds it in his hands, feeling it’s warmth against his palm. He presses their foreheads together, leaning forward slightly to kiss away the tears streaming down his cheeks. “I know.”

 

Faintly, there is a noise in the background, the door opening and closing quickly and quietly. Neither of them notice, but it doesn’t matter. The flash of indigo behind the door does not matter to them because it does not stay, and the boy who owns that shade does not disturb them.

 

Matt stares into his eyes, searching for something. His hands grasp softly at the roots of his hair, fingers combing through dark brown curls. Whatever he’s looking for, he finds, and his shoulders relax. He closes his eyes. Lance nudges him slightly.

 

“Matt,” he says, softly. “Give me your hand.”

 

“Wha…” He opens his eyes, and Lance stare into them with a blinding sincerity. Slowly, he untangles a hand from Lance’s hair and lowers it so Lance can take it.

 

Lance presses the crystal into his hand, the light pulsating more quickly now. “You see this?” He whispers. Matt nods. “The Garrison’s scanners won’t find it. Take it with you and think of me.”

 

“What is it?” Asks Matt, staring down at it. The glow grows brighter. “Why does it do that?”

 

“It’s a crystal,” says Lance, and Matt snorts. “I know, I know. But I promise it will protect you. For as long as it glows, know that I am by your side, always.”

 

Matt stares at it for a moment more, and then looks up at Lance. Lance looks him in the eye, his hand still cupping Matt’s cheek. “Ok,” he breathes. “I trust you.”

 

Lance smiles. “That’s all I ask.”

 

Matt presses their lips together gently. 

 

He leaves the next day, the crystal tucked safely away under the belt of his suit.

 

-

 

A year later, the Kerberos Mission is deemed a failure due to pilot error. Matt does not return.

 

_ The war is close _ . Says Blue.  _ They have taken your people. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo  
> Anyway its sooooo easy to write for characters that have like noting in canon bc you can like,,, make up what they're like?????  
> god bless


	5. And So It Begins Agian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate will always find you again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo really really short chapter today sorry y'all it's just,,,, i have to rewatch the first 3 episodes again and pausing constantly for lines and shit takes forever,,,,,
> 
> anyway enjoy i guess i'll be back as soon as i can be????

 

The Garrison is not to be trusted. 

 

Matt is alive, he can feel it in his bones, in the distant connection the crystal gives him. Shiro would not have made a mistake. 

 

Pidge- it’s Katie, he knows, and he knows that she is young  _ (too young _ ) , but he can see that she craves vengeance, and he will not stop her- joins his team soon after Keith is expelled. Vengeance drives her, the determination and barely tamed rage in her eyes making them bright. The way she looks now, with her short hair and glasses (the ones Matt left behind because he doesn’t need them, he’s just a nerd) makes her look almost exactly like her brother. If she recognizes him, she doesn't mention it. 

 

He has to stop her from attacking Iverson and the other authorities constantly, if only to stop her from being expelled. Someone has to look after her, after all, and she won’t get the information they want if she’s kicked out. 

 

Lance knows how to sneak around the Garrison without being caught- he memorized the guard schedule ages ago, and paladin stealth training has certainly helped- and he uses that skill to smuggle her parts anonymously. He has allies amongst the staff- people who despise Iverson’s decision to cover up this incident. They help him, bring him spare parts that won’t be missed and giving him schedules of people who may rat them out if they ever find out. He doesn’t need the schedules, but Pidge does, so he folds up the paper and tucks it between metal panels where he knows she’ll find it. 

 

Because he is a part of the team, Hunk is dragged into the mess as well. It isn’t a planned thing, and he doesn’t do much, but he becomes a key piece in the silent, unspoken agreement. He spreads the seeds of doubt into the student body, spreading rumors about the real fate of the mission, of Iverson’s cover up. 

 

He doesn’t know why Lance and Pidge are so invested in finding the truth, but it helps their teamwork, so he helps. In the end, it proves to be worth it.

 

-

 

_ Come to me, paladin, _ says Blue in the back of his mind. _ The time has come to fight again. _

 

They find Shiro. Keith is there as well, the cause of the distraction. They meet at the tent entrance, the few allies Lance has covering for them as they sneak in and out, Shiro in tow.

 

“Be careful, Lance,” someone says. “Stay safe.”

 

Lance nods, and the group disappears. The guards chase after them, some allies and some not. His friends- he can call them that, now, after everything, can’t he?- go quickly to edge of the cliff, his allies following closely if only to wave a final goodbye. It’s obvious that it’s the only way to escape, and while it’s dangerous, it’s that or capture and both he and the allies know it. 

 

The hoverbike goes over, Garrison cars skidding to a stop at the edge, and they are free. Lance has to bite his lip to stop himself from shouting as they fall through the open air. 

 

_ “Blue,” _ he thinks, crying out for her.  _ “Blue, where are you?” _

 

_ I am near, _ she says.  _ Find me when all of you are ready. _

 

-

 

Shiro tells them what he knows. It isn’t much, and it’s clear that the memories aren’t pleasant, but he is trying. He says nothing of the Holts, and both Pidge and Lance have to stop themselves from shaking him. 

 

Blue calls out to him, her rumbling voice leading him through the canyon even as he forces himself to look like he’s following Hunk’s meter thing. 

 

_ Come, Paladin!  _ She says.  _ We haven’t much time! _

 

The cave they walk into is covered in ancient runes. He reaches out to wipe dust from the carving of her image, and it begins to glow, the light spreading throughout the cave until it’s nearly blinding. The circle under them caves in, sending them barrelling down into a hidden waterfall. He sees her, towering over them, and she watches them carefully, evaluating the others as he stands to approach her. Keith reaches her barrier first, placing his hands on it in confusion. She has to hide a laugh at that, and when Lance knocks, her amusement rolls off of her in waves. 

 

There is an image that rises up into his head, and the others see it too. An image of Voltron, of five lions gathering to create one legend. He fights down nostalgia and steps into her, letting her feed him the information he missed when Zarkon attempted to kill him.

 

It isn’t pretty. The war started about a year after he returned to Earth, and Alfor, Brygid, and his replacement Paladin (Blue wasn’t very fond of him, not like she was with him, but he was the only one they could find, and he fit her well enough, so) were all killed in the beginning of the fight. Altea fell, the planet and all surrounding ones within the solar system destroyed by Zarkon’s hand. Aeron, blinded with promises of power, turned her back on Voltron to join Zarkon’s side, and the Galra Empire began its universal conquest. 

 

The castle of lions was evacuated of all but Coran and Allura,  who were put into stasis in cryopods, and the castle was sent to a distant sector of the universe. 10,000 year later, they continue to lie in wait.

 

The others are speaking from their place in the cockpit, but their voices barely reach his ears as he prepares Blue for launch.

 

_ “Ready, Blue?” _

 

_ Always. _

 

-

 

He opens the wormhole using one of the crystals he has stored in the control panel, and when he gets the okay to got through, he doesn’t hesitate. 

 

_ “I missed this,” _ he thinks. “ _ Flying with you.” _

 

_ I, too, cub. _

 

-

 

It hurts more than it should when Allura doesn’t recognize him. It makes sense, of course- the age difference they once had no longer exists, seeing as she had been roughly 20 when he disappeared and he returned to Earth as a 19 year old, meaning at this point they were both technically 21. His defining scars and and altean disguise are absent as well, so it isn’t odd for her to not make the connection. 

 

Coran does, though. Lance can tell in the glint of his eyes and practiced familiarity of his movements as he pretends to attack. If anything, Lance is glad. He and Coran had been close friends when he was a Paladin- or, rather, when he was a Paladin under Zarkon. Coran is the only one left who can understand fully what has been done- not only in the war,  but also to Lance. 

 

If anything, he knows that Lance will always fight until his final moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all,,,, i died,,,,,
> 
> (((I'm hella sorry y'all))

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I love Lance thanks for your time


End file.
